by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Introduction
Editor’s Note
So many times I have listened to the testimonies of
non-Catholics, baffled by the sufferings in their lives. I recall a
certain lady tearfully speaking to me of her son’s suffering with an
unrelenting illness as “persecution from the Evil One.” My response to
the suffering mother was: “M’am, in our Catholic Faith, we look at
suffering as a purification, a means to atone, a powerful prayer. We
unite our suffering to the redemptive suffering of Our Lord Jesus; we
look at suffering even at times as a gift from the Father since only
suffering has the power to turn people from perdition to salvation.” The
lady in question, looking at me as if having heard a revelation, said:
“That makes a lot of sense; thank you so much!”The following Lenten reflections deal with suffering, in the Catholic sense mentioned above. It was by the Cross that our good Lord opened the gates of Heaven for us and it will be through the victory over suffering, in other words, through suffering well accepted, that we will some day be able to enter those Heavenly gates.
Introduction
Though true piety can produce and stimulate emotion, piety is not, principally, emotion. Piety begins in a well-formed intelligence, that is, an intelligence schooled in catechetical study and an exact knowledge of our Faith. These truths should govern our interior life. Piety resides in the will. We should seriously desire what we know well. It is not enough, for example, to know that God is perfect. We need to love the perfection of God and, consequently, we should desire some of this perfection for ourselves. This is what it means to desire sanctity.
“To desire” does not mean to feel vague and sterile whims. We only seriously desire something when we are prepared to make every sacrifice to obtain what we desire. Thus, we only seriously desire our sanctification and to grow in love of God when we are ready to make every sacrifice to obtain this supreme goal. Without this willingness, any “desire” is but an illusion and a lie. We may feel greatly moved when we contemplate the truths and mysteries of Religion, but, if we do not derive serious and effective resolutions from them, these mysteries will be of no help to our piety.
This is especially the case during the days of the Passion of Our Lord. It is not enough to follow the various episodes of the Passion with a feeling of compunction, which feeling, though excellent, is not enough. During these days, we should give Our Lord sincere proofs of our devotion and love. These proofs can be given by firmly resolving to change our lives and to fight for the Church.
The Church is the Mystical Body of Christ. When Our Lord asked Saint Paul on the way to Damascus, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?” Our Lord was telling him that by persecuting the infant Church, Saul was persecuting Him, Christ.
To persecute the Church is to persecute Jesus Christ, and if the Church is persecuted today, it is Christ that is persecuted. In a certain sense the Passion of Christ is being repeated in our days.
First Reflection
“Jesus, knowing all that would happen to Him, went forth, and said to them: ‘Whom do you seek?’ They answered him: ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus said to them: ‘I AM He.’ As soon as He had said to them: ‘I AM He’; they went backward, and fell to the ground. Again, He asked them: ‘Whom do you seek?’ And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I have told you that I AM He.’” (John 18:4–8)
When Our Lord was arrested, He did two seemingly contradictory things. On the one hand, He spoke in such an authoritative voice that His listeners fell to the ground. On the other hand, He stooped to pick up Malchus’ ear, severed by Peter’s sword, and reattached it to the man’s head. He Who terrified also consoled. The same One Who speaks forcefully replaces the severed ear. Is there not some teaching here?
Our Lord is always infinitely good. He was
good to those who sought Him that night as Jesus of Nazareth, and also
good when replacing Malchus’ ear. If we desire to be good, we should
learn to imitate Our Lord’s goodness. We should learn from Him that
there are moments when it is necessary to know how to energetically hurl
the enemies of the Faith to the ground, as well as to know when it is
necessary to show compassion to those who want to hurt us.
Why did Our Lord say, “I AM He”? Was it
only to physically shake those who wanted to arrest Him? Why do such a
thing when He would, a little while later, voluntarily give Himself up?
The reason is that if He spoke so loudly to the ears, it was only so He
could speak even more loudly to the hearts.
We do not know if those men ultimately
profited by the grace they received, but the fear they certainly felt
when falling at the sound of the Master’s voice was just as valuable as
when that same voice shouted, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?”
Our Lord spoke loudly to the ears. Though
they fell to the ground, the same voice that struck the bodies and
deafened the ears raised the souls that were prostrate by opening the
ears of the spirit that were deaf. Sometimes it is necessary to speak
forcefully in order to heal.
Second Reflection
“Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear. And the name of the servant was Malchus.” (John 18:10)
The Redeemer acted differently with Malchus. When He replaced his ear, cut off as a result of Saint Peter’s zeal, Our Lord certainly wanted to grant him a temporal good. However, by healing his ear, Our Lord wanted, above all, to open the ear of his soul. So, He Who had healed the spiritual deafness of a few with the forcefulness of His Divine voice, cured the same spiritual deafness of Malchus with words of sweetness, and a physical miracle.
We live in an epoch of terrible spiritual deafness. If there was ever a time when mankind needed to listen to God’s voice, ours is such a time; but ours is also an era that certainly has the hardest of hearts.
The Divine Master shows us that, if we want to cure our own spiritual deafness, as well as our neighbor’s, He is the only one who can do so, as mere human means are useless.
Let us be one with the blind man of the Gospel who shouted to Our Lord, “Domine, ut videam!” -- “Lord, that I may see!”
Let us take advantage of the celebrations of Holy Week to ask Him to help us to hear, “Domine, ut audiam!” -- “Lord, that I may hear!” We don’t know how Our Lord will heal our spiritual deafness—nor does it matter. Let us fulfil His Divine will whether He speak with the terrible voice of reprimand and punishment or with the sweet voice of consolations. What really matters is that we beseech Him, “Lord, that I may hear!”
Let us at least listen wholeheartedly to Our Lord’s voice and, by sincerely opening our souls to the graces He grants us, bring about within ourselves the fullness of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, which the enemies of the Church hope to banish from the face of the earth.
Third Reflection
“And when morning was come, all the chief priests and ancients of the people took counsel against Jesus, that they might put Him to death.” (Matthew 27:1)
The Jewish people yearned for the coming of the Messiah. However, when He did come, they persecuted Him. He performed miracles and the people applauded. But the priestly class, which was the highest political class, was afraid: “Who is this Man that has won the people’s enthusiastic favor? What will happen to our power? He is a danger to us!”
In a method often used today, the persecution began with calumnies and twisted questions designed to trap, questions contrived in the laboratory of insincerity.
The first and greatest of all revolutions broke out during Holy Week. A revolution is, by definition, a revolt of those who should love and obey but, instead, choose to rebel against legitimate authority. Our Lord possessed every possible degree of power and authority over the human race. The mission of the Jews was to acknowledge Him as the God-Man and submit to His sweet rule. They did the opposite. They neither acknowledged Him, nor admired or submitted to Him. And this disposition of soul was due to bad will and envy. They did not want His Law because they were corrupt and Our Lord taught austerity. They revolted and killed Him. The revolution of Holy Week was the greatest of revolutions because rebellion against such high authority cannot happen again.
May the thought of our scorned Redeemer fill us with adoration and compassion for Him, as well as indignation against the revolution that led to His crucifixion.
Fourth Reflection
“And they brought Him bound, and delivered Him to Pontius Pilate the governor.” (Matthew 27:2)
Pilate was a governor without a backbone. Although he knew the multitude would not resist the Roman soldiers, and therefore could count on an easy, brilliant victory, he absolutely did not want to use force to do what was right and just.
Instead, Pilate entered into dialogue with the mob and proposed, “Whom do you want me to release: Barabbas, or Jesus that is called Christ?” (Matthew 27:17)
Barabbas was a notorious head of a seditious band of rogues. He was the worst possible criminal, filled with dishonor and evil. Jesus was the utmost symbol of dignity and represented the best in the Jewish people. He was a descendent of David, the most eminent figure of the Old Testament. He had done only good to everyone.
Centrist that he was, Pilate thought that the Jews would never prefer Barabbas to Jesus. He did not understand that when men do not follow Jesus, they necessarily choose Barabbas. Pontius Pilate only condemned Him because of the political maneuvering of the priests. They told him, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar's friend.” (John 19:12) It would have been easy for Pilate to defend himself against this accusation. However, faced with the possibility of losing his office as governor of Judea, Pilate cowardly had Jesus killed.
As a result of his vile ambition, Pontius Pilate committed the greatest injustice of history.
Fifth Reflection
“Then Pilate took Jesus, and scourged Him.” (John 19:1)
Pilate thought that, by scourging Jesus, he would satisfy the Jews and so be able to set Him free. This is how the weak always think: compromise, give in to evil so as to appease it. However, this only makes things worse.
The torturers bound His hands and brought Him to the pillar amidst blows, shoves, and laughter. His meekness, goodness, and willing unwillingness to defend Himself contrasted with the brutal, senseless, and cruel hatred. Oh foolish illusion that by tying His hands He would be immobilized! It would be enough for Him to say, “Cords, loosen,” and they would fall to the ground! Had He so wished, the cords could have also become serpents to attack His evildoers.
What is extraordinary is that He gave Himself up to be scourged. We can imagine His sweet groans. His Most Holy Body writhing in pain, His adorable flesh torn by the whip. This was the flesh of the God-Man! He stood, full of dignity, meek and without protest, conversing with the Eternal Father within Himself.
We can also imagine at that moment the Son of God, Supreme Governor of all events, thinking about the blessed civilization that would one day be built on the merits of His Passion. Alas, He also saw that at a certain moment the Christian nations would turn against Him and would be dominated by an anti-civilization. Because this world would deny a personal God, it would also deny man’s personhood and individuality.
In this flattened anti-civilization, mankind would affirm total equality, thus becoming enslaved to a rebellious communist utopia. This utopia would deny property, and therefore justice; would deny the family, and therefore purity; would deny religion, and therefore all that is sacred; would deny tradition, and therefore history. By inverting all values, this anti-civilization would produce a great chaos, a great vacuum in which the former-Christian peoples would drown. This anti-civilization is the tyranny of matter, of the machine, of anonymity, and of atheism — in a word, the reign of Satan.
Our Lord could have lamented like the prophet David: “What profit is there in my death . . . ?” (Psalm 30:9) What profit is there in my blood, which I shed so generously and so abundantly?
Sixth Reflection
“And the soldiers weaving a crown of thorns, put it upon His head; and they put on Him a purple garment.” (John 19:2)
Our God, crowned with thorns! Does this not prove that God’s royalty is the royalty of pain? Let us accept suffering: suffering from humiliations; suffering from injustice; suffering from the untiring effort to do good; suffering from self-denial. To take suffering out of Christianity is to insult Christ Who accepted a crown of thorns. To be Christian and to be afraid of suffering for God is to reduce God to a mere banker who satisfies our every whim, or to a simple servant who serves us at our bidding. To eliminate suffering from Christianity is to remove its backbone.
Are we only fair-weather friends? Indeed, it is not Christian to be afraid to sacrifice ourselves for Christ, our greatest Friend. Let us not commit the felony of abandoning Jesus on Calvary. Let us not strike a blow to His face, wounded for love of us, by sinning. Let us not be heartless hyenas, but rather “meek, and humble of heart” as He. (Matthew 11:29)
[to be continued]
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